


(must be) the season of the witch

by boogyu (transming)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Curses, Idiots in Love, M/M, Urban Fantasy, Witchcraft, halloween fic, idiots to lovers, junhui is the star of this, milkshake machine with a vendetta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-12-21 08:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21072107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transming/pseuds/boogyu
Summary: Mingyu angers a witch and gets cursed with bad luck and Minghao is somehow dragged into fixing things. None of their friends are convinced the curse is real, though.





	1. witching season

**Author's Note:**

> title from season of the witch but the lana del rey version
> 
> disclaimer: i dont claim to know anything about witchcraft take everything in this with a grain of salt and pls be kind!

Minghao never works November 2nd for a very good reason.

He’s not the only mage who does, in fact November 2nd has become somewhat of an unofficial public holiday due to the amount of mages who call in sick to work and school, exhausted from the activities of All Hallow's Day. Every November 1st, while humans sleep away their Halloween hangovers, mages share potions and strengthen clan bonds and prepare to dance naked under the moonlight till the sun rises. There are rituals and traditions and magic is unbound and strong for a full 24 hours. Minghao loves every moment of it.

Now - 9 hours after the last candle was blown out and Minghao had somehow managed to drag himself to his bed, bone tired and blissed out - he’s standing in the middle of the cafe kitchen trying not to fall asleep where he stands, counting down the seconds before he can return to his bed. He thinks of the entire jar full of regeneration tea he left on his kitchen counter, ready to be brewed and sipped until he can stand on his own. His magic swirls uncomfortably close to the surface of his skin, unsettled from all the spell casting and drained, refusing to stay still till it’s replenished. He longs to be curled in bed with a circle of crystals balanced along his body, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling and letting himself heal. Instead, he’s focusing all his depleted energy on not spilling juice all over the counter and reconsidering his choice in friends.

For example; Yoon Jeonghan, the sole reason he’s even there. If he had fallen asleep just seconds earlier than he did last night he wouldn’t have heard the frantic buzzing of his phone on his bed stand. He wouldn’t have rolled over, eyelids so heavy he had to blink several times to stop going cross eyed as he tried to read the string of texts. _ Minghao _ , it had started, inconspicuous. Then, _ You know I love you the most right? _ and that’s when Minghao had realised his mistake. There was no saying no to Jeonghan when he wanted something. 

It was simple enough; Joshua had fucked up a transfiguration spell that could take days to reverse and Jeonghan needed to stay back and help, so he couldn’t make it to his morning shift. Minghao understands; shit happens, especially in the midst of festivities - _ especially _ on an All Hallow’s full moon, the first in over a century. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take full advantage of Jeonghan’s hurried ‘ _ I owe you big time!". _He's not an idiot.

There’s an earth shattering crash that breaks Minghao out of his thoughts with a jump, the sound amplified by his magical hangover making it ricochet around his head for several moments after he’s found the source of it. That is: Mingyu, now ducking down to frantically pick up the pieces of the coffee cup he’s just shattered while mumbling apologies that bounce around the room, too low and jumbled for Minghao to make any sense of. 

A few words slip through the fuzz as Minghao carefully puts down the juice he’d been bottling and turns to help. The words _ cursed _ and _ bad luck _ make him stop dead in his tracks.

“I'm sorry what?” He asks. His own voice sounds like he’s underwater; he may need to lie down soon. 

Mingyu’s sigh is exhausted and Minghao quietly takes note of the Gucci bags under his unusually dull eyes. “Vernon invited me to this Halloween party and I accidentally spilled beer on what I _ thought _was a dude dressed as a witch but it turned out he actually was a witch and he got mad and said I'd be cursed with a lifetime of bad luck by the time the sun rose.” He says all in one breath, inhaling quietly once he’s done. Minghao’s eyebrows scrunch together. 

“Is that all he said?” He asks, unsure. 

“He was mumbling a bit when he walked off but I didn't catch anything he said.” Mingyu responds, still picking up the pieces of shattered porcelain off the ground with his bare hands. Minghao has a vague thought that that’s probably not the best idea, considering their current topic of conversation. He pulls his latex gloves off and squeezes past Mingyu to grab a brush and shovel. 

“Was he drunk?” 

Mingyu snorts unattractively and turns to carelessly dump his handful of cup into the broken glass bucket. “I'm pretty sure everyone on the entire block was.” 

Minghao holds back a sigh. “Did he make any hand gestures? Throw salt at you? Speak any Latin incantations?” 

Mingyu thinks for a moment, squinting and rubbing at the skin of his palm. “No he just kind of swung his half empty red solo cup in my direction and stumbled off. He might have been mumbling in Latin,” He looks up and shrugs, "I couldn't really tell, it was super loud in there.”

“That’s not a lot to go on.” Minghao frowns down at the tiny specks of white in the dustpan in his hands. “You sure you’re not just having a bad day?” 

Mingyu huffs and drops his hands. “Look, I know I can be clumsy sometimes-”

“Only sometimes?” Minghao laughs.

“-but I've never been _ this _bad.” He gestures at the bucket full of porcelain shards and Minghao catches a glimpse of red on one of his hands. “That was the fourth thing I’ve broken just today and it’s not even lunch.” 

Minghao stares at him, calculating. Besides the cut on his hand that he really should cover up, Mingyu has a rash running up his forearm (that Minghao would be able to identify as poison ivy burn if he’d paid attention in his herbology lesson last week), he looks like he hasn’t slept in days and the bottom of his left pants leg is damp with what Minghao sincerely hopes is water. In short, Mingyu looks exactly how Minghao feels: like shit. 

He sighs. “Alright, I guess that’s a lot even for you.”

He stands and brushes past Mingyu to dump the rest of the cup pieces into the bucket, arm brushing against Mingyu’s chest when he doesn’t move away to let Minghao past. He turns to find Mingyu staring at him rather intensely - he looks a bit manic. “So can you help me break it?”

Mingyu looks down at him - their height difference is especially prominent, standing this close together, and Minghao’s neck burns when he realises - with shining eyes and the careful weight of his well being resting solely on Minghao’s already heavy shoulders. 

He should say no. His magic is nowhere near stable enough for casting even the most simplest of spells, let alone all the extra control required for black magic. He’s hardly well versed in the craft and isn’t completely sure if he’d be able to help Mingyu, even if he _ were _ healthy enough. Not to mention, he’s severely behind on his apprenticeship work and Jihoon will serve his ass on a silver platter with a side of beans if he turns in one more assignment late. 

There are a million and one reasons to say no and the universe is yelling all of them in a cacophony of _ bad idea bad idea bad idea. _

“I guess.” He says, the agreement slipping out far easier than it had any right to. Mingyu’s responding smile is absolutely blinding and he bends down to give Minghao a hug of gratitude, his arms wrapping around Minghao’s torso and squeezing-

His head follows his body a beat late, and is abruptly stopped with a loud _ bang _as his forehead makes contact with the metal shelf behind Minghao. Mingyu’s whimper of pain is drowned out by Minghao’s hysterical laughter, as is Seungcheol’s disembodied panicked yelling from the front of the cafe. 

Minghao is going to end up stretched far too thin to function, he knows this. If he’s extra lucky, he might even get a magic block and Jihoon will kill him and sell his body for potions. He really can’t find it in himself to care though. Not when Mingyu is crouching on the floor half-laughing, half-crying at the pain in his head and the stinging in his palm and, for the first time all day, Minghao’s head is completely clear. 

♤

On Seungcheol’s orders, Minghao stays home the next day. He spends it mostly unconscious in bed, dreaming of full moons and broken mirrors and bruises blooming on tan skin. When he’s awake, he’s trying to decide whether telling Jihoon about Mingyu’s dilemma would be helpful or detrimental. On one hand, he’s a powerful, experienced mage that has dabbled in both light and dark magic and would be able to help Minghao control it, if he were willing. On the other hand; he basically raised Minghao and if he deemed the ritual too dangerous he’d stop him from even trying, even if Minghao knows it’d probably be for the best. 

He returns to work as divided as he left and is hardly surprised to find that the news of Mingyu’s curse has spread throughout the body of staff, even some of the part timers and a few of their regulars. Mingyu is as clumsy as he is talkative, so it was really just a matter of time. 

What _ is _ surprising, and slightly worrying, is that for some reason, word has also gotten around that Minghao is the poor sucker that got roped into helping him break it. He doesn’t understand what’s so interesting about him being the one to help that makes it worth gossiping about, but he suspects it has something to do with the return of one Yoon Jeonghan and the knowing look he’s been throwing Minghao whenever Mingyu is within any sort of proximity. 

And as to be expected from Yoon Jeonghan, he corners Minghao the first chance he gets, when Minghao is on his break. Which is, first of all, incredibly unfair and breaks some sort of unspoken rule about bothering people when they’re on their break. He does bring with him a thermos full of regeneration tea that acts as both a token of gratitude and a preemptive apology. It’s the expensive flavoured kind too, so Minghao can’t even be more than a little disgruntled about it. 

“So,” Jeonghan starts, shamelessly sliding into one of the broken chairs they keep in the back room instead of throwing them out or fixing them. He balances gracefully like the chair has all four legs instead of three and a half. “What’s this I hear about you helping a certain coworker break a curse?” 

Minghao pulls his other earphone out, surrendering himself to the conversation. “I didn’t offer, if that’s what you’re implying.” 

“I’m not implying anything. “ Jeonghan argues innocently. “I just think it’s interesting.”

Minghao doesn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what, exactly, is so interesting. He silently blows on his tea to cool it down and pretends Jeonghan didn’t give him an opening, knowing it’ll piss the other off just a little. 

It works. Jeonghan lets out an irritated huff, facade slipping slightly before returning full force. “It’s interesting that he didn’t ask Seokmin. You know Seokmin right? Mingyu’s roommate? A little birdie told me he’s specialising in counter curses right now.”

Minghao doesn’t give any indication that he’s listening. Jeonghan continues anyway. 

“Also, it’s been three days since All Hallow’s and you still look like you’re going to keel over at a gust of wind. I can’t imagine you looked much better when he asked you.”

“I’ll have you know ‘Moments From Death’ is my aesthetic and I work really hard to maintain it.” He retaliates. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Jeonghan continues like he didn’t say anything. “The boy has a heart of gold, why would he ask you of all people to help him when your magic is so weak?”

“He’s a human.” Minghao argues, weirdly defensive about all of this. “He probably didn’t even notice; he _ was _having a rough morning. Plus humans cant sense magic like we can so I probably just looked tired to him.” 

“It’s weak and you know it.” Jeonghan smiles like the devil he is. If Minghao hadn’t grown up with him he’d swear he was actually a daemon. 

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he finally takes a sip of tea and moans almost pornographically at how good it feels sliding down his throat, warming his insides and calming his magic. Jeonghan retches loudly and kicks his chair. 

“Um.” Mingyu announces his presence at the worst possible moment, his flushed face making it obvious he’d been standing there long enough to hear the obscene sound Minghao just let out in a spur of thoughtlessness. He really wishes he could keel over and die right then and there; leave Jeonghan to clean up his body for all he cares. It’s the least he deserves, the fucker. 

“Jeonghan.” Mingyu continues, voice strained. “Seungcheol told me to tell you to, quote, ‘stop bothering Minghao and do your damn job’.”

Jeonghan smiles innocently and slaps Minghao hard enough on the back that he starts coughing. “Just getting our Minghao here up to date on our menu changes.” He lies.

Mingyu nods, either unaware of Jeonghan’s blatant lie - they haven’t changed their menu in years - or just desperate to leave this interaction as fast as possible (Minghao can relate) and backs out of the room with a final withering glance in Minghao’s direction. Minghao rolls his chair over and locks the door after him, Seungcheol be damned.

“I hate you so fucking much.” He turns on Jeonghan, the other looking absolutely pleased with himself.

“You’ll thank me later.” Jeonghan hums dismissively. “Anyway, my next point: Mingyu’s story. It’s weak, don’t you think?” 

Minghao nods, always reluctant to agree with Jeonghan about anything. “To be fair he _ was _drunk.”

Agreeing with Jeonghan is always a mistake. His grin spreads into something wicked. “Exactly.” He waves a perfectly manicured finger close enough to brush the underside of Minghao’s nose. “There’s no solid proof,” He lists the items off with his fingers, “No eyewitnesses, not even a dark aura following him around. So tell me,” He leans forward and Minghao’s chair creaks when he leans away in response. “Why did you, the most stubborn, most uncooperative and inexperienced mage in our clan agree to help break a non-existent curse?”

“I’m not uncooperative.” He argues without any real heat. _ Because we’re friends _ he wants to say, but they both know that’s a lie. Minghao has seen Mingyu three times outside of work in the eight months they’ve known each other and only one of those times was intentional. He _ wants _them to be friends but he’s awkward and socially inept, his only friends he either grew up in the coven with or met at work, their relationships more forced than grown from mutual interests. Being one of two mages at a cafe full of humans tends to leave Minghao feeling like an outsider most days.

Mingyu is the polar opposite; a social butterfly with a repertoire of interpersonal relationships miles long. But that’s a depressing thought for another day.

“You know what I think?” Jeonghan asks when it’s obvious Minghao is too lost in thought to realise he unknowingly just let Jeonghan win. He really doesn’t want to know but he’s going to hear it anyway, he doesn’t have much of a choice. Jeonghan was wrong about Minghao being the most stubborn mage in their clan. “I think the only reason Mingyu is suddenly so clumsy is because he’s spending so much time with his crush and he’s even more of an idiot than usual.”

Minghao, thankfully, is saved from responding by the spine-tingling sound of keys in the lock. Jeonghan barely has time to jump in fright, the chair below him wobbling precariously as his weight shifts unexpectedly, before the door swings open and Seungcheol barges in in all of his Manager Glory and drags Jeonghan out by the ear. 

Minghao laughs along to the sound of Jeonghan’s pained yells and puts his earphones back in. Jeonghan’s words stick with him for the rest of his break, to his annoyance. the thought of Mingyu with a crush doesn’t settle in his stomach well, but he blames that on the tea.

♤

It wasn’t the tea.

He stays up late that night, mind spinning and twirling around the idea of Mingyu crushing on someone they work with. It all leaves a bad taste in his mouth; especially when his overactive imagination conjures up the image of Mingyu staring at Seungcheol with love sick puppy eyes, stuttering through a confession and dropping a box of chocolates on the ground in his nervousness. It’s all annoyingly endearing and Minghao’s blood simmers quietly. Mingyu is a grown man, he can have a crush on whoever he wants. Minghao doesn’t care. (Or at least, he shouldn’t care.)

He rolls over, accepting that sleep won’t be paying him a visit any time soon, and sits up. He reaches into his bedside cabinet, precariously balancing over the edge of the bed trying not to fall off, and grabs his copy of his clan’s grimoire. It’s passed down through generations, specialised for their clan’s powers and traditions, and though Minghao never met whoever owned this particular copy before him, he can tell by the doodled drawings and comments on some of the more mind-numbing spells that the mage had very similar attitudes towards studying as he does.

He balances the grimoire on his knees and flips through the pages haphazardly, hoping a spell will pop out at him so he doesn’t have to actually sit down and _ read _the whole thing. He could probably text someone in the clan, someone who’s actually read it, but then Jihoon would definitely find out and he’s more or less decided on keeping this a secret; at least until he’s figured out how dangerous this counter curse will be exactly. If he ever actually finds one that is.

He’s distractedly reading through a spell to ward off premature hair loss, wondering with dawning horror why this particular spell has been added to their clan’s specialised spell book, when his phone vibrates in rapid succession, startling him so much the book almost slips out of his lap onto the floor. He catches it before it does and deposits it safely on the bed. His grabs his phone off his pillow and the screen wakes to an unread text from his neighbour Wonwoo. He frowns. 

**creepy neighbour**

you up? ✓ _ Read: 01:13am _

They’re not exactly the closest of neighbours. Distance wise yes, but relationship wise- well. Minghao wouldn’t exactly be thrilled if they got stuck in an elevator together. It’s not that he dislikes Wonwoo, it’s just.

It’s just Junhui, his white snake familiar with a penchant for hissing at Minghao and slithering around like he’ll pounce on him any second if he dares do so much as make eye contact. He can’t speak snake and knows next to nothing about them but there’s something in his gut that tells him that Junhui would eat him if he ever had the chance. 

**you**

if this is a booty call im flattered but not interested ✓ _ Read: 01:14am _

Wonwoo doesn’t respond and he puts his phone down, assuming the other fell asleep. A knock on his front door a moment later proves him wrong and he groans. He’s debating pretending that he’s fallen asleep but then Wonwoo starts knocking louder and he has a feeling he’s not above waking the rest of their neighbours. 

He stands with a groan and reluctantly unlocks the door.

“So, your boyfriend got cursed?” Wonwoo says in lieu of a proper greeting. Junhui hisses unhappily on Wonwoo’s shoulder; his own version of a greeting. Minghao sighs and moves to let them both in, despite his gut instinct telling him this is a bad idea. 

Oh well, he thinks, not the first bad idea he’s had this week.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” He starts, “And how do you even know about that?” 

As far as Minghao was aware they didn’t share any mutual friends. Then again, the longest conversation they’ve had was when Minghao moved in a few months ago and needed help moving his book shelf. All they did was go over the basics; name, age, species, preferred craft. That’s the only reason he knows that Wonwoo specialises in dark magic and makes him ten times more intimidating than he originally was. That, and Junhui curled around his neck like a temperamental scarf - only dark mages tended to need familiars.

“Not important.” Wonwoo calls, and by the sounds of it he’s already making himself comfortable on Minghao’s bed. He closes the front door and narrowly resists banging his head against it till he knocks himself out just to avoid the dreaded path this conversation is already taking.

“How are you gonna break it?” Wonwoo asks when Minghao finally rejoins him in his own bedroom. His suspicions are confirmed: Wonwoo is lounging across Minghao’s bed like he lives there with Junhui slithering among the sheets, exploring. Minghao doesn’t know how but Junhui looks like he’s judging all of Minghao’s life choices.

Minghao shrugs awkwardly. “I don’t really know yet.” 

Wonwoo sits up, eyes catching the grimoire sitting open on the bedside table. “Perfect. I’ll help you.” 

Minghao’s eyebrows touch his hairline and he slams the grimoire closed, batting Wonwoo’s probing fingers away. “Why?” 

Minghao was convinced they were somewhat acquainted strangers and nothing more. He was also pretty sure Wonwoo hated him. 

“Because we’re neighbours?” Wonwoo tries, casual indifference breaking into something more anxious, more human. Minghao is pleased to find it calms his own anxiety seeing Wonwoo looking ruffled for the first time in his life. He stares Wonwoo down until he caves, breaking eye contact and muttering something under his breath that Minghao can’t quite catch.

“Sorry?” He asks, stepping closer. Wonwoo repeats himself, only slightly louder. Minghao still can’t hear him.

“I said,” Wonwoo yells before continuing at a more normal speaking volume, “I failed one of my assignments and my new tutor said the only way I can get extra credit is by helping you with a counter curse.” 

Minghao is too confused to really appreciate the wonderful blush high on Wonwoo’s cheeks. 

“Why would your tutor want you to help me?” Minghao asks before his brain catches up, a vague overheard conversation brought to the forefront of his memory. Joshua, leaning across the pickup counter like he does every Wednesday for his gossip sessions with Jeonghan, as if the two don’t practically _ live _together and can gossip when Jeonghan isn’t at work. He’d been complaining about the coven making a unanimous decision to swap his apprentice with someone else. How he had barely spoken to the kid, how his white snake familiar freaked him out-

“Your tutor is Josh isn’t it?” He asks, fearing the answer.

Wonwoo looks shocked for a moment, before his expression turns sheepish, which is not something Minghao was ever prepared to see from his stoic neighbour. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything.” 

“Wait does this mean-” He’s met Jeonghan, there’s no way he hasn’t. Minghao feels weirdly betrayed and lied to, though there’s no real reason to feel that way. 

He groans. “I don’t need their help why can’t they just stay out of this?” He asks no one in particular. 

“Admit it, you need me as mu-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Minghao warns. Wonwoo grins, finger tracing the patterns on the cover of the grimoire.

Minghao has two options; he can kick Wonwoo out of his apartment and call Jihoon in the morning to explain everything and pray that against all of his suspicions, Jihoon will actually help him.

Or, he can let Wonwoo look through his grimoire and they can spend the rest of the night brainstorming ideas together, with Minghao keeping a careful eye on Junhui at all times and the added bonus of extra teasing and meddling from the people he calls his friends. 

In the end Junhui makes the decision for him - slithering in Minghao’s way when he tries to force Wonwoo to leave and opening his mouth threateningly around Minghao’s ankle when he tries to step around him.

Minghao really hates that snake.

  


♤

  


Minghao’s in the middle of hauling his body weight in trash to the industrial sized wheely bin outside when he hears Mingyu yelling - a sound he has unfortunately become very familiar with in the half a week Mingyu’s been cursed. The sound is accompanied by an angry metallic whirring that he recognises as the demonic milkshake machine, as well as sad wet splatters before all noise cuts off. Minghao dumps the rubbish bag by the back door before walking back into the kitchen-

To find Mingyu clutching a half empty, half-mixed milkshake, the other half of it decorating the walls, benches and himself.

“I didn’t think this machine could give me any more trauma.” Mingyu moans, pouting at Minghao’s stifled laughter. He remembers Mingyu’s first week of the job and how every single milkshake he’d made had ended the exact same way. Since then, Mingyu’s always done his best to avoid it like the plague. 

A blob of ice cream drips off Mingyu’s fringe and lands on the ground with a sad splat. 

“Sorry.” Minghao apologises through his laughter and rips a new cloth off a roll and hands it to Mingyu, who’s pout deepens.

He rips another cloth off and starts wiping the bench. “I talked to my neighbour.” He says, apropos of nothing. 

“The one that does black magic?” Mingyu asks, squeezing dairy out of his fringe. For some reason the sight of it has Minghao feeling inexplicably giddy so he drops the cloth and starts remaking the milkshake. He hums a confirmation, burying his face in the ice cream tub.

“We’re meeting up this weekend to find supplies for a ritual that might work.” Mingyu starts cleaning the bench beside him and he hopes his entire body tensing isn’t too visible. He clears his throat quietly, unsure why he’s so nervous all of a sudden. “Don’t get your hopes up though, it might not work.”

“Why not?” Mingyu asks. He’s towering over Minghao even while bent over the counter.

“Well um, you know-” He stutters. “Supply problems…” He trails off, unable to come up with another reason that’s not he just doesn’t think he’s skilled enough to pull this off, even if Wonwoo is (probably) ten times as powerful as he is and has far more experience in curses. He doesn’t want to scare Mingyu off now that he’s so emotionally invested.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Mingyu reassures him. “I trust you.” He smiles down at him and Minghao has to look away immediately because he feels like his face is about to burst into flames, his pulse sky rocketing.

“Th-thanks.” He stutters. 

Mingyu laughs. “I should be thanking you!” He grins, mega-watt and disarming. “I really appreciate it, you must be so busy. I’ll pay you back?” He tilts his head and Minghao thinks _ puppypuppypuppy- _

“Don’t worry about it.” He says, and really means it. He puts the finished milkshake in the blender and turns it on while Mingyu grabs the ice cream and walks away to put it back in the freezer.

“Hey uh, just so you know,” Minghao calls over the whirring of the machine as Mingyu disappears around the corner, “The best time to break a curse is during the new moon which is like, two weeks away. Can you hold on till then?”

He hears the freezer door shut with a click but Mingyu doesn’t respond or reappear. 

“Mingyu?” He gives the milkshake a final burst before pulling it off the blender and walks around the corner. Mingyu is standing with his back to the freezer door, looking nervously between Minghao and his pwn arm tucked behind him.

“You okay…?” Minghao asks, eyes doing a quick once-over. Mingyu giggles nervously and breaks eye contact.

“I, uh, might have just closed the door on my finger?”

There’s a pause where they just look at each other, Mingyu’s hand trapped behind him by the complicated mechanics of the freezer door handle. 

Minghao sighs, long winded and exhausted. “Two weeks. Just hold out for two weeks without killing someone, _ please. _”

♤

“Your boyfriend almost killed me this morning.” Is not how Minghao expected to start his shift a week later. 

Seungkwan looks rather unbothered for someone who’s had a recent near death experience, steaming milk like it’s a regular Tuesday morning. “Congrats, by the way.” he adds.

“What?” Minghao asks, continuing his trek to the staff room to dump his bag and clock in.

“Mingyu.” Seungkwan continues when Minghao returns to the coffee machine just to hear the rest of this conversation. “He almost dropped a crate on my head with delivery this morning.” He explains. “And congrats on the whole boyfriend thing.”

Minghao starts making himself a coffee, banging the coffee head against the dump rather aggressively. “Why does everyone think we’re dating?” He sighs, feathers all ruffled first thing in the morning. 

“You’re not?” Seungkwan finishes his latte art creation before he turns to stare at him incredulously. When Minghao just raises an eyebrow, Seungkwan scowls. “Fuck Jeonghan, that compulsive liar.”

Minghao doesn’t have to ask. Of course Jeonghan would be spreading rumours about his completely platonic relationship with his coworker. 

“Can you grab more milk?” Seungkwan asks, apparently done with his interrogation. 

“No.” He replies and dodges the cloth thrown at him with practiced ease.

  


♤

It’s 9 am on a Saturday and Minghao is, to his utter displeasure, not sleeping the day away in bed. Instead, he’s at the mage market with Wonwoo trying to find all of the supplies they need for the ritual before everywhere is sold out. Saturday morning markets are no joke; human or not. 

In a rare turn of events, Junhui isn’t there. Minghao couldn’t hold back his pleased grin when he realised the reptile wasn’t present and he’s thankful that Wonwoo had been too busy ogling some sort of demonic Venus Fly Trap to notice. 

At this point, the market is packed full of bodies and their basket is close to overflowing, but they haven’t gotten everything they need yet. Minghao really wishes he’d brought his reusable grocery bags to carry some of this - the basket is leaving marks in his forearms that’ll be a bitch to heal. Wonwoo still hasn’t offered to carry it, even after the third time he nearly dropped it on his foot, and Minghao doesn’t think hes lucky enough to get away with asking. 

Wonwoo disappears into a tent and Minghao follows with a tired groan, heaving the basket higher up his arm. 

“Excuse me?” he calls, too tired to even look at this point. The girl at the back of the tent looks up at Minghao’s call, dropping the pendant she’s watching spin round and round over the wooden table serving as both a counter and a tarot reading station. 

“Yes? Did you need help with something?”

“Do you have any galangal root?” Everywhere else is sold out so he isn’t holding his breath. He’ll have to look up a substitute when he has free hands. 

As predicted, the girl’s face drops in sympathy. “We’re out I’m sorry.”

Minghao thanks her and bows, turning to leave when she stops him. “What were you going to use it for?” 

He shuffles awkwardly, adjusting his grip on the basket. Black magic isn’t taboo, not really. There’s just a lot of discourse surrounding it and a lot of people - specifically non-magic users, go figure - have a lot of loud opinions on the subject. Dark magic is powerful and takes a lot of self-discipline to master safely. Only the strongest mages can successfully use it long-term without letting it consume their natural magic - hence why Minghao is so afraid of it - but it’s rare that a mage gets to the point of consumption; there are safety laws and covens for a reason. Even still, practicing black magic is somewhat frowned upon by the more conservative members of society and any small tasks that require black magic are often dealt with through dark mage freelancers. It’s uncommon for mages not born and raised in dark mage clans to practice any form of it above whatever may be required for lessons.

There’s not a trace of anything dark in the girl’s magic, but Minghao is still hesitant. The marketplace can be wildly unpredictable. 

“Curse breaking.” He eventually answers, deciding it’s better to be truthful. If the girl has opinions he’d kindly not hear any of them.

Her face doesn’t change though, not in the slightest. “Oh, ginger root is a good substitute if it’s a small scale hex. Otherwise we should have some next weekend.” She smiles kindly; meaningfully.

Minghao breaks into a small relieved smile of his own and bows again. “Thank you.” He turns to find the last ingredient only to come face to face with Wonwoo, walking towards him with an unreadable expression.

“Oh, Wonwoo” He breathes, caught off guard and slightly uncomfortable.

Wonwoo keeps staring for several more seconds before his expression breaks into something minutely more relaxed. He holds a hand out, a bag of ginger root dangling from his nimble fingers. “This everything?”

Minghao nods and Wonwoo goes to pay, smiling in a way Minghao has never seen when he thanks the girl. Minghao follows quietly behind him as they leave the tent, the ginger root carefully wedged between everything else in the basket.

Wonwoo turns around suddenly, once they’re a safe distance away, between two empty stalls and away from foot traffic. 

“You didn’t lie.” He says. 

Minghao shrugs. “Didn’t think I needed to.” He says lamely. 

He’s inexplicably embarrassed, but Wonwoo’s minuscule smile makes him feel a little proud of himself. He could have easily lied and said he needed it for a ‘normal’ spell, or a simple human cooking recipe. Galangal root isn’t exactly uncommon. But he realises now it wouldn’t have felt right, would have made it seem like he was doing something wrong when that’s not how he feels about dark magic at all. He doesn’t believe there’s anything wrong with it, despite his own wariness that’s more a product of his own insecurities than it is anything to do with the magic itself. 

It must be hard for dark magic users like Wonwoo, he realises, to do simple things without fear of being judged by an opinionated stranger. 

Thinking about Wonwoo’s bright smile earlier, he knows he did the right thing.

Minghao shoves Wonwoo to get him walking again, flashing him a smile that he hopes makes up for everything he’s too awkward and shy to say out loud. They walk in a silence that’s comfortable for the first time since they met and Minghao is quietly reveling in it, soaking it up and hoping this is a step towards a better relationship with his neighbour. 

They’re a block away from their apartment building when they run into Mingyu and Minghao’s stomach drops. He was hoping to put off Wonwoo and Mingyu’s first (and hopefully only) meeting until the very last minute - for reasons he can’t quite understand himself. 

“Minghao, hey!” Mingyu calls when he spots them, removing his headphones and jogging over. He’s just coming from the gym, dressed in shorts and a tank top that shows enough skin for Minghao’s head to start spinning. He’s panting like a dog and Minghao’s thoughts return to _ puppypuppypuppy- _

“Hey.” Minghao squeaks. Mingyu’s smile is warmer than the sun above their heads. Wonwoo nudges him in the side when Mingyu’s stare turns expectant, far more aggressive than called for. Minghao clears his throat, subtly shoving back. “Uh, Mingyu this is Wonwoo, my neighbour. Wonwoo this is Mingyu, the idiot who got himself cursed.”

Mingyu laughs good-naturedly and shakes Wonwoo’s proffered hand. The spark in Wonwoo’s eyes as he looks Mingyu up and down horrifyingly reminds him of Junhui and his heart rate spikes. He wonders if he ran fast enough if he could make it home before Wonwoo caught him.

“It’s great to finally meet you, I’ve heard loads.” Wonwoo grins, ignoring the sharp warning jab Minghao digs into his side.

Mingyu’s grin stretches till it reaches his eyes. “Minghao talks about me?”

Wonwoo laughs, devilish. “He never shuts up-”

“Mingyu we would love to talk more,” Minghao interrupts, slightly manic, looping his free arm with Wonwoo’s, “But we should really get going. Lots of important, um, mage business to attend to. Sorry!” He drags Wonwoo away, trying to maintain a reasonable walking pace that doesn’t make it look like he’s running away. (Even if that’s exactly what he’s doing.)

“Bye! See you at work!” Mingyu calls obliviously. “Nice to meet you Wonwoo!”

“You too!” Wonwoo waves happily back, laughing once Minghao tugs him back around. They walk through a small crowd before Wonwoo pulls away and punches him in the arm.

“Ah!” He yelps in pain. “What was that for?”

“Being rude.” Wonwoo says and straightens his jacket where Minghao rumpled it. Then he resumes walking, uncaring if Minghao is following or not. 

Minghao glances back and manages to catch Mingyu’s sandy brown hair bouncing above the crowd, nodding happily along to the music in his headphones as he walks in the opposite direction. Minghao turns back around and follows after Wonwoo, noting how his heart is pounding in his ears.

Wonwoo is deep in thought when he catches up to him. 

“What’s up?” Minghao asks, nudging him gentler this time.

“Trying to figure out what’s wrong with Mingyu.” Wonwoo explains after a moment, still lost in concentration.

“You mean besides the fact that he’s cursed?” Minghao asks.

“Huh? No I mean just as a person.” 

Minghao frowns. “What do you mean?”

Wonwoo inhales. “Well, he’s tall, handsome, has that dumb toothy smile that I suppose most people would swoon over.”

Minghao nods, unsure where this is going. 

Wonwoo looks pointedly at Minghao. “So why’s he dating you?”

Minghao shoves him into a flower bush and storms off.


	2. full new moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 8 day!!!
> 
> ** please be warned there is mentions of blood in this chapter, nothing too gory but be careful reading if you're sensitive towards the subject! **

The problem with having nearly all of his friends convinced that something is happening between him and Mingyu is that now that the thought is almost constantly at the forefront of his mind, it's hard to ignore how his feelings may have changed. Which is terrifying for several reasons; reasons he stays up late at night worrying about now, the thoughts replacing his usual 3 am existential crises, something he never thought he'd miss. 

But it doesn’t stay contained in his dark bedroom for long, as these things never do - by day three Minghao's brought these thoughts to work in the form of daydreaming about holding Mingyu's hand at the most inappropriate moments. Like right now, with Mingyu three steps away from him, cutting up slices for the display case. His hands are rough and worn, and Minghao was thinking about offering him hand cream when his thoughts had slipped rather quickly into Minghao taking Mingyu’s hands into his own and personally applying said hand cream. 

The knife in Mingyu’s hand catches the light and breaks Minghao out of his daze just as Mingyu notices him standing there. He smiles warmly and puts the knife down with a clang. "What's up?" 

Minghao blinks, flustered. “N-nothing.” He stutters unintelligently, too focused on the confusing whir of emotions pooling in his stomach from the phantom warmth of Mingyu’s hands between his palms to remember how to have a normal conversation. 

Mingyu just looks at him, blinking a few times in confusion when Minghao just Stands There so he books it out of the kitchen - clean coffee cups he’d completely forgot he was holding clanking as he goes - like an absolute moron. He nearly bowls Seungcheol over when he turns toward the coffee machine, yelping a little in shock as Seungcheol reaches out and steadies him before he can go stumbling into the bench or drop the cups.

“Careful.” Seungcheol scolds lightly. It’s just the three of them working and the cafe is mostly empty, apart from the regulars who come in to use their powerpoints and WiFi without buying anything. (Minghao really thinks Seungcheol should make them buy something, but he knows he’s too soft to do so and it’s too late now that most of them have been coming in since even before he was hired.) They really don’t need three people to close the cafe on a Monday; they’ll be lucky if they get a single customer within the last hour before the cafe officially closes. But Minghao definitely isn’t complaining, even if he can tell Seungcheol is getting suspicious of his sudden interest in his personal life.

He pulls away from Seungcheol, opening his mouth to apologise or argue that he _ was _being careful (lies), when he’s cut off by, yet another, Mingyu Noise of Distress.

Seungcheol looks at him and lets out his own noise of distress. “What now?” He groans with the full force of two years worth of manager responsibilities, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Minghao quietly thinks he should take up yoga; being a solo manager of an entire cafe before he’s even reached his thirties is bound to cause irreversible emotional damage if he doesn’t take time to wind down between shifts. Especially with employees such as Mingyu. But Minghao likes his job, so he keeps that thought to himself. 

He follows Seungcheol into the kitchen, strongly dreading what they’ll find. He may like his job but these past weeks have been far more emotionally exhausting than they’ve had any right to be. There’s a dull pain behind his eyes that flares to life, having been on and off for the better part of the week. 

Seungcheol stops a step into the kitchen and lets out a distressed yelp and Minghao has to shoulder past him to get a view of the scene. His stomach drops like it’s flung off the highest point of a moving rollercoaster.

The first thing he sees is the blood, like a dark beacon under the kitchen fluorescents, and for a solid few seconds he can’t look away. Then Mingyu lets out a hiss followed by a pitiful whine and he snaps out of it. Mingyu is clutching his hand, his right one, the one that wasn’t holding the knife, close to his chest. It’s wrapped in his apron, ties still clinging loosely to his lower back where he couldn’t untie it completely in his haste. 

Minghao rushes forward, unthinking, and tugs Mingyu’s hand out of his apron to assess the damage. Mingyu yelps in pain and he mumbles an apology over the blood rushing in his ears, unwrapping Mingyu’s hand more carefully. He only sees the cut for the briefest of moments, enough to see that it’s _ deep, _ before blood completely covers it. Someone curses under their breath (it might have been him, he can’t tell) and Seungcheol tugs them both over to the sink. He lets go only when Mingyu’s hand is softly pulled out of his but his hands remain hovering in the air, twitching. His mind races with all the spells he knows. He’s supposed to be a healer why can’t he think of anything to help right now? Mingyu is hurt and bleeding and he’s _ useless- _

“Ya, Myungho. Come back to us.” Seungcheol calls worriedly. He blinks and realises his whole body is trembling. Mingyu is looking at him with a matching worried expression while cold water washes the blood from his hand and Seungcheol stands to his side digging through the first aid kit. _ When did he get that? _

“Hao? Are you okay?” Mingyu asks. 

“Fine.” Minghao answers immediately, embarrassed at how his voice shakes on that one syllable. He glances back at the bench Mingyu evacuated. There’s the tiniest puddle of blood pooled on the chopping board, barely ten drops of it, but he could have sworn it had covered the entire bench. He looks at Mingyu’s hand again and realises the cut isn’t as deep as he thought, certainly not deep enough to have nicked anything vital. 

“Myungho, go sit down for a bit. We’ll take care of this.” Seungcheol orders. When Minghao doesn’t move he stops raiding the first aid kit long enough to nudge him towards the break room. He goes, something awful and heavy settling in his stomach. 

His magic swirls restlessly among his forearms, unused.

  
  


♤

  
  


Mingyu finds him the next day before Minghao starts his shift. He’d caught an early bus, restless for no reason, and there’s still twenty minutes till he has to clock in. He barely slept the night before, rolling in self deprecation. His reaction to Mingyu getting hurt was nothing short of dramatic and he hates how affected he was, his own insecurities with his magic overwhelming his common sense. He knows he’s not even supposed to do magic in his workplace, which was one of the reasons he applied for the job in the first place. Jihoon had told him it would be the best idea to get a boring human job to give his magic a break from time to time and he has to agree. 

Mingyu stands awkwardly in the centre of the room, eyeing one of the broken stools apprehensively. He looks hesitant, which is rare enough to be alarming. It’s like there’s something he’s trying to figure out how to say, or worried about how to go about approaching a subject. Minghao nearly offers him his own seat. Mingyu’s discomfort is starting to rub off on him and it sets his nerves on edge.

“How’s your hand?” He asks before Mingyu can say anything. It’s wrapped up tight in a bandage with a couple of food safety approved blue plasters covering it for no purpose other than decoration. Nobody was more pleased than Seungcheol that the cut wasn’t deep enough to require stitches but Minghao likes to think he was a very close second. 

“Stings a little.” Mingyu answers, rubbing at the skin around the bandage.

Minghao hums in sympathy, awkward and unsure what to say. Guilt pools in his stomach again, joined by a side of self-hatred. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Mingyu tries, attempting reassurance but achieving the opposite. 

“People only say that when it’s exactly as bad as it looks.” Minghao laughs but it sounds flat even to his own ears. Mingyu’s smile turns strained and minghao looks away. He kind of wants to swallow his own foot. 

Mingyu quietly steps closer and crouches down till he’s eye level with Minghao, who’s nervously fiddling with his fingers, and holds his hand out. Minghao looks at it for a confused second before realising Mingyu must want him to heal it. He swallows through the lump in his throat.

“I can’t.” He whispers, wrenching the words from the centre of his chest where it hurts the most.

“Can’t what?” Mingyu asks patiently. His eyes are shining, always shining. 

Then, when Minghao stays silent he says. “Kiss it better?” 

Minghao physically jolts at the shock of the words and bangs his knee against the underside of the desk. Mingyu laughs, loudly, until he realises Minghao’s actually crying just a little bit because that fucking _ hurt _and Mingyu starts throwing rapid fire apologies like they’re a rap verse. 

“Are you okay?” Mingyu gasps out when Minghao just keeps rubbing his knee. His face is burning and his knee is throbbing so bad he feels like dying. 

“Sorry, that was a really bad joke, huh?” Mingyu continues, chuckling awkwardly. 

_ Oh. _ Minghao thinks. _ That hurt. _

“It’s fine it- You’re fine.” He stutters out, chest tightening. Mingyu doesn’t look any less apologetic but there’s something sad tinting his smile that Minghao can’t find a reason behind. He tries not to read too far into it and Mingyu leaves before he can really ask about it anyway.

It’s probably nothing. 

  
  


♤

  
  


Three days before the new moon and two days since Minghao’s last shift at the cafe - where he embarrassed himself in front of Mingyu and spent the rest of his shift hiding in the kitchen - it’s three hours after he’s clocked in when he realises that now _ Mingyu _ is actively avoiding _ him _at all costs and he can’t really figure out why. None of his friends are being particularly helpful about it, as usual. 

Seungkwan walks into the kitchen while Minghao is moments from metaphorically tearing his own hair out (read: making a milkshake) and asks without preamble or any sort of context: “What did you do?” 

Still, Minghao knows exactly what he’s referring to.

“I don’t know.” He groans. “He was fine the last time I saw him.” 

Seungkwan contemplates that for a second before sighing and hip checking him out of the way to take over manning the ice cream scoop. Minghao slumps against the counter gratefully. “What happened the last time you saw him?” 

“Nothing we were just at work, I was-” _ avoiding him. running from my feelings. trying to figure out what the fuck is going on without confronting anything- _

“You were?” Seungkwan prompts. He raises an eyebrow at the ice cream, effectively judging Minghao without even looking in his direction. He’s almost impressed. 

“...Busy.” 

Seungkwan actually rolls his eyes. “Okay, so what about the last time you _ talked _to him?” 

Minghao blushes an angry red at the memory. Mingyu’s sweet puppy eyes, his teasing expression that was just a little too sincere to be confidently played off as a joke. 

_ Kiss it better? _

He sighs and explains the disasters - both the accident the night before and the train wreck of a social interaction the day after - with as little emotion as he can and refuses to look anywhere near Seungkwan. He hears Seungkwan drop the ice cream scoop into the tub once he’s explained the ‘kiss it better’ situation and he feels judging eyes burning through the side of his face. 

“Dude.” Seungkwan deadpans.

“What?” Minghao huffs, defensive. He looks over when Seungkwan doesn’t say anything and recoils at the force of Seungkwan’s glare. 

Seungkwan rolls his eyes again and fishes the scoop out of the tub, waving it in Minghao’s direction. “Then what?”

“Then nothing. He left and we didn’t really talk for the rest of the shift.” He finishes. 

Seungkwan shakes his head. “There’s something you’re missing. What were his exact words when he was apologising for the awful pick up line?” 

“Umm.” Minghao tries to think. “‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to? Are you okay?’ Something like that?” 

“That’s it?” 

“Uh…” Minghao’s stomach flips at a memory. “He said ‘Sorry bad joke?’” 

Seungkwan gasps dramatically and turns back to him with alarming urgency. “And what did you say?” 

“Um…” Minghao starts, slightly frightened, “‘I-it’s fine?’”

Seungkwan drops the scoop onto the bench this time, the clattering of metal against metal making Minghao jump. He whirls around to confront him with a finger pointed straight at his chest. 

“You’re a complete and utter idiot.” Seungkwan accuses.

“Thank you?” 

“Oh my god.” Seungkwan throws his hands up. “You have no idea do you?”

Minghao shakes his head.

“He was flirting with you, you dumbass, and you completely shut him down! No wonder he’s avoiding you.” 

“So?” Minghao defends hotly. “He flirts with everyone, it doesn’t mean anything!” 

“Oh my god.” Seungkwan repeats, practically growling. “Get out of my kitchen.” 

  
  


♤

  
  


He texts Mingyu the night before the new moon. Mingyu hasn’t said a word not related to work to him since The Incident, as Seungkwan has aptly named it, and he doesn’t know if Mingyu still wants his help or if he’d rather find a different mage. One that actually has experience in counter curses and doesn’t ruin things with _ feelings _.

(Yes, somewhere between his talk (argument) with Seungkwan and now he’s finally, _ finally _accepted that maybe he Does have feelings for his coworker; that maybe his friends had been right and he’s been in denial for a while now.)

Mingyu texts back almost immediately that yes, he still wants Minghao’s help and he’s really sorry for being weird and Minghao isn’t sure how to move on from that. He’s glad Mingyu isn’t mad at him, at least, so he counts that as a win.

He falls asleep shortly after, anticipating. Tomorrow is a big day. 

  
  


♤

  
  


“Did you bring everything?” Wonwoo asks in lieu of an actual greeting. Minghao silently holds up his bag of supplies to eye level and Wonwoo steps back to let him in with a satisfied nod. He’s been in Wonwoo’s apartment once before this; when he first moved in and Wonwoo was nice to him for approximately seven whole seconds. It’s similar to Minghao’s in size with a mirrored layout so that their kitchens share a wall. Minghao likes it because it means their bedrooms are on opposite ends of their apartments and he has absolutely no desire to know what Wonwoo gets up to in his spare time. 

He follows Wonwoo into his Study-Turned-Tumblr-Esque-Witch-Lair - the one additional room that Minghao’s apartment doesn’t have, so Minghao is forced to cast either where he sleeps or where he eats - while warily glancing around the furniture for a spot of shimmery white scales. He’s unnerved that Junhui didn’t answer the door with Wonwoo; the hellish familiar could be anywhere. 

The obnoxious sound of the tacky beaded curtain hanging over the study doorway echoes around the large room behind Minghao as he steps through the threshold and he freezes as he spots who’s sitting inside. 

“J-Jihoon?” 

Fuck.

His tutor looks over at the call of his name, distracted from his conversation with Joshua, both perched on the window sill next to Wonwoo’s alter. 

“Hao.” Jihoon replies, voice betraying no emotion. Minghao feels the hair at the back of his neck stand straight at the sound of it. He flinches when Jihoon stands abruptly, dropping off the windowsill with a graceful thud and pushing past Minghao, through the beaded curtain without saying a word. Minghao sends a pleading look around the rest of the room; over Joshua’s pleased grin and Seungcheol - god knows what he’s doing there - who at least looks a little sympathetic. Wonwoo is ignoring everything in favour of pretending to read through the ritual for the millionth time. 

He begrudgingly leaves the room and all of its protective wards to face his tutor and role model, hoping against all hope that Jihoon at least makes his death swift and painless. He finds him in the hallway a few steps away from the study, arms crossed and he makes sure to keep his head down as he approaches. 

It’s pointless though when Jihoon says “Minghao, look at me.” 

Minghao does as he says, wincing when he meets Jihoon’s steely gaze. He holds his breath as Jihoon just looks at him, unmoving, face set in stone. After a beat, he sighs, and Minghao can hear the disappointment in it. “I really wish you’d come to me about this, Minghao.” 

“I’m sorry.” Minghao says quickly before he can continue, but Jihoon just holds a hand up to stop him. 

“But,” He continues, “I have to admire how hard you worked to find a solution on your own. And your idea was pretty decent, but it wasn’t perfect and if Joshua hadn’t been keeping me in the loop you could have ended up seriously injuring someone.” 

“I’m sorry.” He repeats, dropping his gaze on the floor. 

“Hey, I’m here to help you, yeah?” Jihoon claps a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I’d rather you tell me about your dumb boyfriend drama so I can help you fix it _ safely _than-”

“Wait- boyfriend drama?” Fucking Jeonghan. Fucking Joshua. “Oh my god for the last time, Mingyu’s not my fucking boyfriend.” He tries to sound threatening but it comes out more tired and whiny. 

“I never said he was.” Jihoon counters, raising an eyebrow. Minghao flushes bright red and clamps his big mouth shut. Jihoon laughs. “You can tell me about it later.” Minghao is making no such promise, in fact he’d much rather stick his head in the toilet than discuss this with one more nosy ‘friend’. 

Jihoon, thankfully, drops the subject and shoves Minghao back towards the study after a few more lines of nagging. When they reenter the room, Joshua has abandoned his perch to help Wonwoo draw a pentagram in the middle of the room, straight on the hard wooden floor, while Seungcheol watches over their shoulders. Which reminds him-

“Seungcheol, why _ are _you here?” He asks, suspicious. To his horror, a blush spreads quickly across Seungcheol’s cheeks and he clears his throat too many times before answering.

“I’m here to supervise?” He explains. Joshua snorts without looking up from the grimoire in his hands and Minghao glares, even more suspicious. “It’s my duty as a manager to uh make sure that none of my employees are seriously injured and unable to work.” 

“Okay, sure, but we’re not even _ at _work?” Minghao argues, utterly confused. Seungcheol just shrugs, nervous eyes darting over to glance at Joshua for just a second, just long enough that if Minghao weren’t watching, he would have missed it. Jihoon interrupts to drag him away, effectively cutting Minghao's interrogation short, but he swears to himself he'll get to the bottom of whatever is happening between Joshua and his manager.

He busies himself with helping Wonwoo with the ritual preparations, while Jihoon instructs over Minghao's shoulder and Joshua yells random encouragements to Wonwoo at random intervals. 

Minghao's plan is simple. In theory. Minghao and Wonwoo will combine their magic so Minghao can harvest just enough power to interact with Mingyu’s life force and manually ‘heal’ whatever hex has been put on him. They have to take all of their ingredients, including the ginger root and some daemon's saliva that Wonwoo supplied personally ("Do I even want to know where you got daemon saliva from?" "I wouldn’t if I were asking you.") and pulverise them until they make a thick paste, which Minghao will then have to spread over Mingyu's hands to make his spirit accessible. It's all very complicated and he's sure there's an easier way to go about this that Jihoon will definitely tell him about as soon as all of this is over, but for now this is the best plan he’s got. 

Wonwoo starts making the paste while Jihoon talks Minghao through the adjustments they need to make. “You and Wonwoo will end up sucking each other’s magic dry if you try to do this with just the two of you,” He explains, “So I’ll be joining to make sure that doesn’t happen.” 

He nods gratefully. That could have ended horribly. 

There’s a knock on the door and Joshua leaps up to answer it while Minghao’s heart starts racing in his chest. It’s almost 11, meaning that can only be Mingyu, the man of the hour. He tries to subtly fix his hair in the reflection of the window beside him without drawing attention to himself, hoping his eyeliner hasn’t smudged. He’s wearing his favourite ‘Tumblr Witch’ outfit which consists of a cardigan with its sleeves rolled up, a low neck shirt and ripped jeans, all varying shades of black. His charms tinkle together whenever he moves his arm and his ears are lined with all the earrings he’s not allowed to wear at work. This is the first time Mingyu will see him outside of work where he actually put effort into his outfit and he feels nauseous just at the thought of it, suddenly thinking of all the alternate clothing choices he had and cursing himself for not wearing something colourful. 

Beads clank against wood as someone enters the room behind him. To his surprise, it’s not Mingyu but Chan, another mage who lives on the same floor as Wonwoo and him who walks in first. 

“Hey Hao!” He greets when he spots Minghao, waving happily with a fabric bag wrapped around his wrist. 

“Chan? What are you doing here?” He asks. Mingyu walks in at that moment, looking unfairly good in double denim, hair slicked back and cheeks dusted pink from the tepid air outside. Minghao near swoons at the sight of him.

“Dunno but Wonwoo said there’d be food and second hand embarrassment, so.” He shrugs, grinning. “I brought regeneration tea!” Minghao glares at Wonwoo, who returns it with a cocked eyebrow and he turns back to his grimoire with a huff. He hears Mingyu strike up a quiet conversation with Seungcheol and tries not to think about how Mingyu hadn’t even spared him a glance when he’d walked in. He pretends it doesn’t hurt and focuses back on the task at hand. They talk through the ritual twice over, speaking their way through each step so they’re all confident and won’t need to restart it in case someone messes up. It’s not a particularly long ritual but it will be exhausting. Depending on how far they get, it may be impossible to safely restart more than twice. Minghao calls Mingyu over after they’ve confirmed everyone knows what they’re doing and they run him through it. 

Once they’re all set and ready to go, the rest of the room clears out - because it’s dangerous for anyone not involved in a ritual to be in the same room - and they are left alone. Jihoon and Wonwoo take their places in the pentagram and Minghao quietly instructs Mingyu where to sit. Mingyu still hasn’t really looked at him outside of a few glances he thought he caught in his peripheral vision but were probably just tricks of the light. He has the sudden, soul-crushing realisation that after tonight Mingyu has no reason to talk to him outside of work-related issues. He can’t even pretend it doesn’t hurt this time. 

Mingyu settles and Minghao shakes himself out of it. He can’t afford to be distracted. He grabs the bowl of paste and an unlit green candle and kneels in front of Mingyu, taking the final position. He lights the candle with his own lighter - black with a silver rune carved into it - and settles it in front of him on the part of the pentagram where the outer circle meets the point of the star. 

“Give me your hands.” He surprises himself by how steady his voice is. Now that his goal is in front of him he finds it much easier to stay focused. He doesn’t think about how soft the skin of Mingyu’s hands are as he smears the paste across his open palms, quietly instructing him to keep them spread facing upwards for the duration of the ritual. Mingyu nods and Minghao sits back, placing the empty bowl on the floor behind him.

His legs are already cramping familiarly beneath him and he hopes this doesn’t take too long. He looks at Mingyu and sees the anxiety in his posture despite how hard he’s trying to hide it, keeping his back straight and eyes focused on the wall behind Minghao’s head. Minghao sends him a reassuring smile that he doesn’t even look at and lets his eyes flutter shut. His hands naturally find the other two mages without looking and as soon as they lock together he feels stronger with their combined energy and magic. This is always his favourite part of practicing; of spell casting and witchcraft. The undeniable empowerment and momentary feeling of invincibility. 

Mingyu shuffles nervously in front of him and he begins. Wonwoo’s magic intertwines with his own, the dark shadow of it wrapping around Minghao’s own - purple, the colour of a healer. Their magic together grows stronger, the channel flowing through their bodies till its overflowing and dizzily wrapping around the circle. Jihoon’s magic bursts forth, a brilliant white of a light mage, and wraps protectively around them both; safety, balance, warmth. 

Minghao breathes in magic and starts the incantation. Wonwoo and Jihoon join and their magic glows brighter behind his closed eyelids. The chanting and bursts of magic reach a crescendo and Mingyu’s soul finally flickers to life, a colourful shadow of his figure close enough to Minghao he could reach out and touch it. Minghao directs their magic forward, unhesitating, prodding and poking around, soothing, searching. He finds something, a small black smudge on an otherwise bright and colourful canvas and he directs the magic towards it, changing the incantation and chanting louder until the smudge has melted away into the shadows surrounding them and Mingyu’s soul is left unmarred. 

He calls his own magic back into himself as Jihoon and Wonwoo do the same, until it reaches his fingertips and he ceases the incantation. His eyes flicker open to Mingyu staring at him expectantly with a flicker of hope and something unnamed in his eyes. 

“Is it gone?” He asks, out of breath even though Minghao was the one doing all the work. Minghao’s head feels heavy and light at the same time, something that means he may have pushed himself just a little too hard. As long as he doesn’t get a nose bleed Jihoon won’t know and he can get away with it. 

He breathes in deeply and lets go of the hands still held between his own. “There was no bad luck curse.” He pushes off the ground, legs almost giving out when he stands up too fast. Mingyu stands faster and holds an arm out when Minghao stumbles. 

“What? What do you mean? There was nothing?” 

Minghao ignores him and reaches for the empty bowl, ready to help clean up until Mingyu gives up and leaves but Jihoon snatches it out of his hands before he can. _ Go talk this out _he mouths and shoos them both out of the room. Wonwoo flicks a hand at the beaded curtain and it melts together into a heavy wooden door and slams shut in his face. 

“Real mature!” He yells to nobody. He doesn’t look at Mingyu hovering next to him and heads in the direction of Wonwoo’s bedroom, knowing he wouldn’t get through the living room of meddling friends if he tried to leave.

“Minghao-” Mingyu calls after him.

“There was a small hex.” He blurts, bursting into Wonwoo’s room and flopping onto his bed. Junhui lets out a small hiss and Minghao finally spots him wrapped around the curtain rail where he must have been the whole time. “But it wasn’t the kind of bad luck you thought it was.” 

“What kind was it then?” Mingyu asks. He’s hovering awkwardly in front of the closed door, hands hanging limp at his sides. The paste has started to dry and crack at the edges of his palms. Minghao grabs the tissue box off Wonwoo’s desk and hands it out to Mingyu, who takes it gratefully and starts wiping the gunk off his hands. 

Minghao closes his eyes and listens to his own heart beating in his skull. 

“Mingyu?” He asks in lieu of an answer.

“Yeah?” 

“The bad luck…” He starts, swallowing his nervousness. “Does it happen at home too? Or is it just at work?”

Mingyu is quiet for a moment. “It’s the worst at work.” 

Minghao nods to himself. “Jeonghan thinks you have a crush on someone at work.” His voice betrays none of his nervousness, something he is immensely thankful for. He hears how Mingyu’s breath stops, just for a moment. Then the bed dips by his knee as Mingyu sits down and Minghao lets his eyes flicker open to catch the panicked expression on Mingyu’s face. 

“...And what if he’s right?” Mingyu answers after a painfully long silence. His voice is so small, like he always tries to be. Mingyu is always packing himself up into the smallest spaces, compensating for his loud personality by being as physically unimposing as possible. 

Minghao sits up and stays up, even when his head spins and throbs and begs to be laid back down. “Then you should probably do something about it before you put someone in the hospital.” 

Mingyu looks over at him and he looks _ terrified _. Minghao feels bad for putting him on the spot; for taking so long to notice; for taking just as long to acknowledge his own feelings. Maybe his friends were right, maybe he is an idiot.

“Are you saying…?” Mingyu asks, eyes darting nervously between Minghao’s, searching for something Minghao is willing to give. He nods minutely and Mingyu’s eyes light up in what he dares call hope. 

“Minghao.” he starts. The way he says his name - like it’s important, putting emphasis on every syllable - it makes something bloom in Minghao’s chest, warm and exhilarating. “I really hope I’m reading this right because I tend to jump to my own conclusions a lot and my friends are always telling me I’m like a professional at missing important information-”

Even his rambling is cute. God Minghao is whipped. He can’t help but giggle and Mingyu blushes all the way down to his neck. “Sorry.” 

Minghao shakes his head, silently encouraging Mingyu to keep going. He doesn’t think he could stop smiling if he tried. His arm starts cramping a bit from propping his body up so he lifts it, pulling it into his lap-

Mingyu takes a deep breath and says: “I really like you, Minghao, as more than a friend-”

The relief and pure, unadulterated happiness Minghao feels from finally hearing those words is cut off rather abruptly by a low hiss and a sharp sting in the skin of his palm. He screws his eyes shut in pain and tries not to yell out in pain. His hand hovers between his bed and his lap, hidden behind Mingyu’s back as he obliviously powers through his confession.

“- I’ve liked you for an embarrassing amount of time, honestly Seokmin kept telling me I was being dumb but I just couldn’t stop.” Mingyu pauses his rambling for a second to look at Minghao and his giddy smile fades into something more concerned. “Are you... okay? You look a little pale. Did I read the situation wrong or-”

Minghao shakes his head urgently before Mingyu’s face can fall any further, wincing through the heavy sloshing in his skull from magic overexertion. He’ll be damned if he lets Junhui ruin this for him. “No, no you’re fine I like you too it’s just-”

A fresh wave of pain in his hand cuts him off with a whimper and he’s starting to feel a little nauseous. 

“Just…?”

“Junhui bit me.” 

Mingyu blinks. “What?”

“Junhui.” He swallows thickly. “He bit me. Is currently biting me.” He gestures weakly with his unoccupied hand at where Junhui is currently latched on so tight it’s hard to tell where his arm ends and snake begins. 

“Oh my god.” Mingyu’s voice pitches up at least three octaves. “Is he poisonous?”

“Venomous.”

“What?”

“Venomous. Not poisonous.”

“Oh my god is that important right now?”

Minghao shrugs weakly. “I can’t really feel my hand,” He finally answers, “So uh, chances are…” He chuckles even weaker and Mingyu’s starting to look pale now.

“Shitshitshit-” His hands hover over Minghao uncertainly, not touching but urgent to do _ something _. “Wonwoo!” He yells helplessly. 

Minghao tries to focus on Mingyu and how pretty he looks in the low light to get his mind off the fact that his entire arm has gone numb and the room has started to sway a little. Junhui is still holding strong, fangs nestled deep in the soft flesh of Minghao’s palm and he swears the little fucker is smirking. Fucking asshole.

Wonwoo bursts through the door as Minghao’s hearing turns muffled and his cackling laughter sounds like it’s miles away. 

  
  


♤

  
  


“At least you didn’t need to go to the hospital?” Mingyu tries, smiling sheepishly at Minghao glaring over the rim of his teacup. The rest of their friends have unanimously agreed to leave them alone in the kitchen while Minghao downs a gallon of regeneration tea and recovers from... literally everything. He’s still trying to figure out if he’s grateful for the alone time or not.

“Shut up.” He barks with no bite. His hand is wrapped just this side of too tight and the sight of it brings back a flood of memories; Mingyu with his hand decorated in blue plasters, puppy dog eyes on full display, leaning close enough to Minghao he could feel the breath on the side of his face as Mingyu had said: _ kiss it better? _He can’t really stop the smile that breaks through his angry facade.

“Sorry.” Mingyu mumbles but he’s smiling too. The worst part is Minghao can’t even really be mad at him. He’s still a little dizzy from the snake bite but his chest feels lighter than ever, a giddiness bubbling below his skin threatening to break free in a happy laugh any second. It mixes with the antivenom pumping through his veins, reversing the worst of Junhui’s ‘mostly non lethal’ venom.

He shakes his head, letting a small giggle slip through. “It’s fine.” 

Mingyu smiles so wide that Minghao’s cheeks hurt just looking at it. (But that could also be his own smile, he can’t really tell.)

“What was the curse?” Mingyu asks suddenly. 

Minghao’s smile dims just a fraction. “What curse?” 

“You said I had a hex, just not the bad luck curse that I thought it was.” 

Minghao flushes, smile turning embarrassed. “It was a, uh… it was bad luck but-” He flounders, avoiding eye contact. Mingyu giggles at the sight of it and Minghao lightly swats in his general direction. “It was targeted.” He explains, gesturing uselessly. “Like, specialised I mean, for a certain aspect of life.” 

Mingyu is failing to suppress the force of his grin, pointy canines digging into his bottom lip when he asks: “So what was this one for?” 

Minghao suspects he already knows the answer. “Your love life.” 

If Mingyu’s smile was bright before, it’s absolutely _ blinding _now. Minghao has no idea what he was so scared of. All of his fears and insecurities are washed out in the bright light of Mingyu in his purest form. 

“Minghao.” Mingyu says. It sounds like both a question and a beginning. Minghao lets a happy laugh bubble out of the cavity in his chest and Mingyu laughs too. They laugh at nothing and everything; at how insane this whole situation is, at how happy they are that they made it to the other side. (Minghao might also be a little loopy from the venom and whatever Chan put in this tea, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Mingyu hops his chair around the table, the wooden legs scraping loudly against the floor, until he’s sitting directly next to Minghao and their laughter dissolves into giggles, pitching louder when Mingyu nearly topples over when one of the chair legs gets caught between a tile. 

“Are you sure you got rid of that curse?” Mingyu laughs and Minghao just grins and shrugs. God he really couldn’t stop smiling even if he wanted to. They go quiet and just look at each other, for a long moment, lost in each other. They’re no longer in Wonwoo’s kitchen, there was never a curse, their friends aren’t in the next room talking about them and there isn’t antivenom pumping through Minghao’s veins. All there is is adrenaline and the anticipation of something more; something new and exciting. 

Minghao thankfully has the foresight to move his teacup out of the way as soon as Mingyu starts to lean forwards, elbow brushing over the vacated spot on the table not moments later. Minghao brings his hand up to rest at the back of Mingyu’s neck just as his lips are captured in a kiss sweeter than caramel. 

He admits, he’s definitely thought about kissing Mingyu a few times before. He wondered what kind of kisser he would be; maybe clumsy and enthusiastic, as he is with everything in life; maybe a little shy and nervous, unsure of himself because he was so eager for it to be perfect. Once, he imagined Mingyu being an aggressive kisser, controlling and dominating, pushing Minghao against the wall with his hands on his shoulders and hips pressed together. 

Mingyu kisses like none of these. 

He starts off sweet with careful but confident pecks before Minghao has the sense to reciprocate and opens his mouth just the slightest to make each kiss longer than the last. Then, Mingyu changes. He brings a hand up to Minghao’s jaw and thumbs his bottom lip open further until he can lick into his mouth, filthy and obscene and Minghao can’t help the gasp he lets out at the sudden change. Mingyu grins and laughs at the sound and Minghao accidentally kisses his teeth but he doesn’t care, not about that or the creaking floorboards outside of the kitchen, alerting him of eavesdroppers. He kisses Mingyu back with a fervor he wasn’t aware he was capable of and Mingyu eagerly matches every move of Minghao’s mouth against his own.

It’s not until Mingyu drops a hand to Minghao’s hip, brushing it up under the hem of his shirt, across the skin of his hip and digs his fingers into the soft flesh that Minghao lets out a noise dangerously close to a moan and their friends storm into the kitchen in a body of noise. Mingyu keeps laughing as they’re manhandled out of the kitchen, hand gripping Minghao’s and smile never dropping. Above the yells of disgust and opposing wolf whistles as they’re swiftly kicked out of Wonwoo’s apartment, Minghao catches Mingyu’s sparkling eyes and thinks: _How did I get so lucky? _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cue long a/n :)))
> 
> first of all i need to give a huge thank you to mae for helping me with this and being my unofficial beta i dont think i could have finished this without them and i am so truly grateful for everything theyve done ;; also to rainy for always being so encouraging and drew for reading my weird scrappy drafts that made no sense but praising them anyway!! 
> 
> secondly thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos or just read through this it means a lot that people genuinely liked this weird and completely self indulgent fic i wrote yall are too kind :( 
> 
> thank u again and i hope everyone had a safe and happy spooky season :))

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos much appreciated! [twitter](https://twitter.com/transgyu?s=09) | [cc](http://curiouscat.me/wuju_lbx)


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